


his skin barely keeping him inside

by procrastinatingbookworm



Series: Little Beast (Jonah Week 2020) [5]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: BDSM, Cigars, M/M, Multi, Public Use, Service Submission, Trans Jonah Magnus, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:00:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24790483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastinatingbookworm/pseuds/procrastinatingbookworm
Summary: “Don’t get overzealous, gentlemen,” Smirke lifted Jonah’s chin with a finger. “He’s here to be an ashtray, not an orifice.”Jonah picked up the cigar cutter from beside his knee, smirking slightly.“Does he know how to present?” Mordechai asked.“Try him out,” Smirke suggested.
Relationships: Jonah Magnus/Robert Smirke, Mordechai Lukas/Jonah Magnus
Series: Little Beast (Jonah Week 2020) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788130
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30
Collections: Jonah Magnus Week 2020





	his skin barely keeping him inside

**Author's Note:**

> Giovanni = Simon Fairchild, to stay consistent with the assortment of Jonah works.

“So, Jonah,” Robert Smirke said, one afternoon, halfway through a shared, post-coital cigar. “How would you like to sit in on one of my parties?”

Jonah’s face lit up immediately, but he schooled his expression back to casual interest within a moment. “What’s the catch?”

Smirke laughed softly, ruffling Jonah’s hair. “You’re a quick learner.”

“I didn’t need to learn that,” Jonah replied, sitting up to stretch his arms above his head. “It’s common sense, that nothing comes without a price. But you’re the sort of man to deliver the price up front. So what is it?”

“This isn’t the sort of the gathering where I can bring in anyone I please. Even as the fulcrum of them all. But,” he added, when Jonah’s face fell, “They won’t object to… entertainment.”

Jonah raised an eyebrow. “You want to bring me to your party… as a  _ pet.  _ As a  _ toy. _ ”

“You can choose your title,” Smirke replied, before Jonah had the chance to wind himself up and go off. “And your role. If you’d rather not be touched, they won’t lay a finger on you.”

Jonah ran his hands briskly through his curls, shaking his head as he laughed to himself. “You sound like you have something in mind.”

*

“Any reason you insisted on the change of venue, Smirke?” Mordechai asked, wiping his shoes on the mat and hanging up his coat. In Smirke’s narrow anteroom, he loomed even larger than usual. “It’s rather out of the way for some of us.”

“Just a bit of a surprise I wanted to have ready,” Smirke replied, leading Mordechai, one hand not quite touching his elbow, into the living room.

Jonah was exactly where Smirke left him, naked, kneeling on a cushion where the coffee table usually sat, between the arrangement of chairs—most of which were filled by guests, all of whom seemed to be waiting, if not for Mordechai himself, then for the completion of the party he brought with him.

“Robert,” Mordechai started, admonishingly.

“Not an interloper,” Smirke corrected, hurriedly. “He’s just a bit of entertainment.”

Giovanni, from where he was perched on the windowsill like a well-dressed vulture, chuckled. “He’s very pretty.”

“Don’t get overzealous, gentlemen,” Smirke lifted Jonah’s chin with a finger. “He’s here to be an ashtray, not an orifice.”

Jonah picked up the cigar cutter from beside his knee, smirking slightly.

“Does he know how to present?” Mordechai asked.

“Try him out,” Smirke suggested.

Mordechai took a cigar from a case in his pocket and placed it in Jonah’s open palm. He watched, scrutinizing, as Jonah cut it, then slipped into his mouth, one end at a time, to wet it for toasting.

“Match?” he requested. Mordechai sparked one, and Jonah took it, toasting the cigar over the flame, turning it evenly. Someone drew in an appreciative breath.

Before the match could go out against his spit-damp fingers, Jonah lit the flat end, blew on the cigar to ensure it had heated correctly, took a drag to test the draw, then laid it flat on his palm to present it, the lit end hanging just over the edge of his palm.

Mordechai took the cigarette, wrapped his lips around the end, and drew in a breath, just as the smoke of the first drag trickled from between Jonah’s lips.

“Ashtray, you say?” Sampson Kempthorne chimed in, taking his own cigar case from his pocket. “Go on, Lukas. Give him ash.”

Mordechai took another slow drag. “On your… chest, I think. Sit up.”

Jonah straightened, setting the cigar cutter down. There was ash on his fingertips, from the burnt-out match. He tilted his chin back, baring his chest for Mordechai’s ash.

Mordechai tapped the cigar on the edge of his finger. The ash fell, and though Jonah bit his lip as he watched it, he let it fall onto his chest.

A breath, two, and then he lifted his hands, brushing the ash back and forth to ensure he didn’t blister. Once the ash was no longer scalding, he pressed his palms down, moaning as he did, thighs clamping together in arousal as the heat rushed through him.

Then he raised his head, licked his lips and smiled. “Who’s next?”

There was little business discussed that night, but Jonah didn’t mind. He had found his way in.


End file.
